Summary: G couldn't hear anything over the roar. The roar of the gunfire that erupted all around him or the rushing of blood in his ears, it didn't matter. Sam was down.

Author's Notes: I'm sort of at a loss as how to even begin to process the Season 4 finale. So, instead, I'm going to drown myself in some hurt/comfort scenes until I feel better...

This is set in the Season 2 episode "Empty Quiver" and was, in my opinion, one of the single greatest sequences NCIS:LA has ever done. And it was backed by the incredible Placebo cover of "Running Up That Hill". Genius.

I own very little and absolutely nothing related to NCIS:LA.

And if I only could

make a deal with God

and get Him to swap our places.

- "Running Up That Hill", Placebo

"Sam," warned Callen. This was all wrong, this wasn't their guy. There was movement inside the Range Rover, but before G could clear his gun or move, a shotgun blast threw Sam back and G couldn't hear anything over the roar. The roar of the gunfire that erupted all around him or the rushing of blood in his ears, it didn't matter. Sam was down.

His partner was starting to move when Callen reached him. He grabbed Sam by the back of his shirt, forcing him up and away from the men laying down gunfire and circling the big rig. Callen knew he was hitting his targets, but no one was going down and staying down.

"They're wearing body armor!", he shouted as he pushed them over to the cover at the side of the road. The covering fire never let up, but Callen could catch glimpses of the men continuing to open the truck, killing the driver, and opening the back. Sam didn't have a weapon, he stayed curled on his side, coughing.

"You okay?"

"Vest took the hit," answered Sam.

Crappy cover and no way out, Callen kept shooting. He had to keep the gunmen from getting any closer and finishing what they had started when they'd shot his partner point blank in the chest. When the smoke bombs went off, Callen's visibility went from bad to nil. The sounds of doors slamming and engines starting was the best indication that they assailants were leaving.

"Coast looks clear," said Callen after a few moments of quiet. He slowly lifted his head up, peering through the smoke at the empty highway and dead bodies. That brief delay probably saved them. As they approached their motorcycles, they exploded, rigged by the gunmen before they took off.

Callen got to his feet and felt Sam's hand on his shoulder. The gasping cough caused him to turn, alarmed when Sam fell to his knees.

"Sam?"

"Can't breathe," wheezed Sam, clutching at his chest.

"Get the vest off." G crouched down and pulled at the uniform shirt. He could nearly hear Hetty's voice complaining about the treatment of the clothes, but it was a whisper compared to the horribly strained sound of his partner trying to breathe.

Buttons conquered, Callen undid the straps of the vest and pulled it over Sam's head. There was no blood staining his undershirt. It had done its job, but Callen didn't have to look closely to see how the bulletproof plating was bent and misshapen.

Sam stoop forward and took a breath that didn't sound much easier.

"Talk to me, Sam," pressed Callen.

"I'm okay," Sam said after a moment, his voice rough and soft. G felt his own breath ease, not even realizing he'd been holding it. He fell back on his heels and looked at the vest in his hands. Shredded and mangled. Sam probably had broken ribs, given the state of the plates... Large hands reached out and tugged the vest away, throwing it to the side. G looked up at Sam. He looked a little grey and pained, but his eyes were warm. "I'm okay."

Callen nodded and got to his feet, offering a hand to Sam. The big guy was slow to get up, a hand rubbing his chest, but he was standing. And G would take it.